


Brothers in Arms

by Madchen



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, M/M, Military, Power Dynamics, Power Exchange, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madchen/pseuds/Madchen
Summary: “My poor brave Erich…” His voice whispered sadly, fingertips skimming over the red marks. “These should have been holes in my body.”John and Erich have a much-delayed conversation. Warnings to be on the safe side.





	Brothers in Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viceindustrious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceindustrious/gifts).



> John and Erich talk out their feelings. 
> 
> Written for MiTHC Discord Channel <3 Love to you all! This work isn't beta-d so all mistakes are mine.

      It was midmorning and as usual at 11.00am, John Smith took coffee in his office. Despite all of the changes that were threatening to overcome the Greater Reich, certain things remained the same, and the Obergruppenführer remained stubbornly stalwart in his habits. A strict adherence to discipline and order would see them through, as it had seen him through all previous challenges. Those around him could not help but find reassurance in this security of routine, their confidence once shaken by Heydrich’s treachery now restored by John Smith’s determination not to let one man undone over a decade of stability. Normality started and ended with simple things like the arrival of coffee in a familiar cup at the expected time, and John welcomed the ordinariness of the gesture.

     Looking up from his paperwork, he admired Erich’s form moving across the office; his smooth, elegant motion, nothing spilling on the tray, perfectly level and placed without noise. Erich bent at the middle, a sharp, precise movement that John had watched him do a thousand times. What he had not seen before was the sharp look of pain that had creased his face, his teeth biting his lower lip to keep himself from making any noise.

          “Erich?” John asked questioningly, fighting the urge to reach out to his colleague.

          “It’s nothing, Obergruppenführer.” Raeder spoke crisply, not quite stopping his eyes moving to the right, indicating behind him where his colleague sat at a desk, working through a field report. John raised an eyebrow and Erich straightened up, walking to the far end of the office and closed the doors, Lawrence Klemm paying him no mind. He waited a moment to ensure the telltale _tap tap tap_ of the typewriter keys continued, before returning to face his superior.

          “Don’t tell me its nothing, Erich.” John Smith spoke as Erich approached his desk again. “You’re still not fully recovered.” He stood up to his full height, a concerned look upon his face. He gestured for Erich to sit, who obeyed, sinking into the leather suite, John walking over to join him.

          “I am well enough to work in the office, Obergruppenführer.” He spoke loud enough, before dropping his voice. “John, please, I don’t want to make a fuss.” Their personal relationship had made working together difficult enough before, but especially now there was a near-constant threat to their lives.  How hard John had had to fight with himself not to embrace Erich upon his return to the office after his hospitalisation, to kiss him deeply and hold him tight to his body. But there had been no time, no privacy; he had the distinct impression this was by Erich’s design, rather than accidentally. It was time, he had  decided, to remind Erich that he was not a man to be avoided.

     John raised a finger to Erich’s lips to silence him, his eyebrows raised for a moment as his hands reached to undo the belt around Erich’s waist, undoing the jacket and pulling it off his shoulders, watching Erich wince again. Almost as if he was undressing a child, he delicately undid the buttons, parting the white cotton to reveal bare flesh underneath, ugly, angry marks marring the once smooth flesh.

          “These look sore.” John was no stranger to battle wounds, finding a curious sort of beauty to the way in which a body could knit itself back together, not quite as beautiful as it once was, but exquisite in an entirely new way. His fingertips probed gently, wanting to explore the body before him, to press his skin against the other mans body, hungry to feel him. Erich had always held John’s curiosity, his loyalty never questioned, the feelings they shared deep and hard to define.

          “They are healing well, so the doctor tells me.” Erich sounded awkward about the attention that John was paying to him; this was not their usual way of doing things. He tensed and winced in pain and embarrassment, but not willing to draw away; such was the power John held over him.

          “What are you doing for pain relief?” John sounded calm, but there was an element of concern in his tone as he inspected his subordinates’ body.

          “I won’t take the morphine; I can’t risk the side effects, Obergruppenführer.”

     John understood; Morphine dulled the senses, making a person into a quivering, drug addled mess. After Connelly’s betrayal, he could not afford to lose any more of those underneath him, but especially not this man. He nodded his understanding, before returning to his admiring inspection.

          “My poor brave Erich…” His voice whispered sadly, fingertips skimming over the red marks. “These should have been holes in my body.”

          “I am happy to have taken them for you.” Erich closed his eyes. These praises were precious, so rarely spoken from John, and he treasured them, feeling his heart swell and his blood surge. He meant it; he would take them a hundred more times if it meant keeping the Obergruppenführer alive. He meant everything to Erich, and to have spilled his blood to save his life…it was an appropriate sacrifice.

          “I wish you hadn’t needed to.” He leant forwards and pressed a kiss to one of the marks, almost reverently, before looking up at Erich through his eyelashes, a flash of pain on his face. “I thought you were dead.” He didn’t speak loudly, as if it were a curse that might come true if overheard. “I thought you had died.”

          “I thought I was too.” Erich found himself speaking the confession, words he hadn’t dared to say aloud, words he had barely been able to think in the past few weeks, for fear of losing control of his tightly controlled emotions.

          “I owe you my life, Erich.” John said solemnly,his hands steadily opening the buttons of Erich’s trousers, using his hand to stimulate him to full hardness, his words having done most of the work.

          “You owe me nothing.” Erich answered sharply, inhaling a small gasp as John took him in his mouth, swallowing him almost whole. His fingers curled as he drank in the sight of his beloved Obergruppenfuhrur before him, on his knees, lips

          “I owe you everything.” John said, hand wrapped around the base of Erich’s cock, admiring his handiwork , before pushing Erich back against the desk, before looking back into his eyes. “Don’t ever forget that.” Erich swallowed, the hand on his prick tightening gloriously.

          “Yes, sir.”


End file.
